there is no one to talk to right now so i am going to tell the internet a story. by internet, i mean you.

it is about being dead. which i was, once.

you can hear the waves crashing on the beach. underneath the roar they are drums. under the stars, you see the waves shine and reflect. dashed against sand, they roll out, underneath.

there is a tangled knot of string in the middle of your chest. each string flys out in a tight arc. each arc stops at a kite. the kites tug and swoop about. the knot unties; the kites are loose in the inky night.

chris.: www.snakecharmer.net.: we are proof that the heart is risky fuel to burn. [ songs:ohia ]